


I Need To Get Somewhere Soon

by stardropdream



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 20:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12540920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: When Yuuri gets an injury that cuts practice short, Victor determined to let Yuuri rest. Yuuri disagrees with the decision.





	I Need To Get Somewhere Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a request on tumblr for bottom Yuuri which I then just turned into Power Bottom Yuuri because yes lol. aka "Victor tells Yuuri to stop practicing and Yuuri goes 'welp, gotta get my exercise elsewhere, then.'"

Yuuri lands his next practice jump cleanly and Victor hums out his approval. He calls out as Yuuri skates by, “Good job, Yuuri! Try again.” 

Victor’s learned over the course of training Yuuri that praise is good, but only if it’s genuine. It’s so different from the way he learned to skate, and certainly different from Yakov’s methods. Yakov’s praise tended to come in silent but heartfelt nods of approval after a long day’s practice where Victor has sweated and slaved away on the ice and has sore knees and ankles and slightly bleeding feet to prove it. But he’s slowly learned that such methods do not work with Yuuri. Too much silence makes Yuuri overthink, fret, and ultimately hurt himself in his attempt to push himself too far to prove himself to Victor. But just shouting out hapless, disconnected praise is no good, either – because then Yuuri gets annoyed and realizes that Victor is just shouting hapless, disconnected praise for the sake of it, and so he pushes himself too far to prove himself to Victor. 

Either way, it’s good to keep tabs on his skater. Yuuri skates a wide circle around Victor, setting himself up for his salchow, and launches himself into it – spinning through the air and landing cleanly. It’s the first time today he’s landed the same jump twice in a row and this time Victor claps, exceptionally pleased with Yuuri’s progress. 

Yuuri is beautiful. Victor has always thought so. But like this, he’s devastating – the sweat at his temples, his hair clinging to his forehead in greasy clumps, sweat stains at the front of his shirt. The flex and shift of his muscles as he launches his body across the ice. What isn’t to love about that exceptional display of strength? Victor knows that strength well, after all. 

Yuuri’s smiling at him tentatively as he skates over, sliding to a halt in front of Victor. There’s a spray of ice that sparkles across Victor’s skates as a result, but Victor only holds out the water bottle to Yuuri. Yuuri grabs it and pulls three heavy gulps from it before he heaves out a long, satisfied sigh, finally letting himself breathe now that he’s hydrated. Victor is momentarily distracted by a sliding bead of sweat down Yuuri’s neck, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. 

“Ready to call it a day?” Victor asks. They still have some practice time left with the rink, but he can tell Yuuri’s tired.

But, predictably, Yuuri shakes his head. Victor isn’t even surprised, can’t help but smile a little indulgently as Yuuri answers, “I’m fine. I can keep going.” 

Victor’s proud of him – proud of all the work and effort Yuuri’s been putting in, all those hours slaving away and pushing himself. It’s reflected in his skating – how effortless it seems, and yet he knows how hard Yuuri works. It’s moments like these where Victor’s once again wowed by his stamina, by his ability to keep pushing, to keep going. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being amazed by that. Amazed by Yuuri. He never wants to stop being surprised. 

“Sure,” Victor says. He checks his watch and then takes the water bottle from Yuuri when he holds it out for him. “A few more run-throughs should be enough. You must be getting tired.”

Yuuri gives him a look and then turns and skates off into position, launching through another run-through of his routine. Victor watches him, lifting Yuuri’s water bottle to take a lazy sip, noting the smaller details in Yuuri’s performance to tell him when he finishes up. 

And then Yuuri’s blade catches on the ice as he’s coming out of one of his jumps and he slams forward onto the ice and slides hard into the boards. It isn’t the first time Yuuri’s smashed his face hard against the ice or the boards, and it won’t be the last. Yuuri’s already groaning, moving to push himself up, so Victor knows it isn’t worse than it looked (and it looked bad). Still, he skates over to him as Yuuri struggles onto his knees, heaving out a frustrated groan. 

“Are you alright?” Victor asks, not letting the worry lace his voice. He knows how resilient Yuuri can be, but it was a hard tumble. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yuuri grumbles and wipes at his nose absently. That’s around the time they both notice the blood. 

“Ah,” Victor says, frowning in concern as he shifts to kneel down on the ice in front of Yuuri. He digs into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the small towel he carries with him for whenever this happens. “Tilt your head down, Yuuri. Don’t swallow it.” 

Yuuri doesn’t quite roll his eyes – that isn’t his style – but sometimes he has that sort of look that implies he very much wants to. But he obeys Victor’s request, tilting his head forward as Victor presses the towel up to his nose. Yuuri hisses when it makes contact with his face – it must sting, of course it must sting – but he otherwise holds still. 

“I’ll need to check to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Victor tells him.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri mumbles into the towel, glancing up at Victor through his fringe. 

Victor smiles at him. “I’m sure you are. But let me worry just this once, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri doesn’t protest, and takes over holding the towel up to his face as Victor stands and draws Yuuri up onto his feet, as well. Victor guides Yuuri across the ice. Yuuri keeps his head down diligently and trusts Victor to the lead the way. 

Once on the rinkside, Victor guides Yuuri to sit down and they go through the motions of checking Yuuri over. The bleeding isn’t that bad, once they pull the towel away. This isn’t the first time Victor’s had to check Yuuri over for concussions, but he’s clear-eyed and lucid as he answers Victor’s questions and passes the rudimentary tests. Still, Victor knows they’re done for the day and he needs to keep an eye on Yuuri. 

He reaches out, touching Yuuri’s cheek, slides his thumb gently along the edge of his jaw. 

Yuuri’s mouth quirks up into a small smile. Even with dried blood on his upper lip and a quickly swelling nose, he’s beautiful. Victor really is that far gone. Has been that far gone for months now. 

“Yuuri,” Victor tells him. “I know that when we call practice short you always insist you can handle it and then find a way to sneak out here to practice when I’m not looking—” He pointedly ignores the way Yuuri blushes up to his ears at that (honestly did he think Victor didn’t know?) and continues, “—but I really must insist we head back to the inn for today.” 

Yuuri, of course, looks like he wants to protest. Victor presses the pad of his thumb to Yuuri’s bottom lip, tugging it down. He feels more than hears Yuuri’s soft breath as he looks at him. 

“Yes, coach,” Yuuri says, in that way that absolutely means he wants nothing more than to disobey him. 

“Yes. And as your coach—” Victor begins.

But then Yuuri leans in and kisses him. It catches him by surprise – but perhaps it shouldn’t have, given how well he’s gotten at reading Yuuri’s tones and expressions – and there’s absolutely blood on Yuuri’s upper lip, but he doesn’t care as he kisses him back. He sighs out, returning the kiss – keeping it slow and sweet. 

Yuuri turns his head a little and his nose bumps against Victor. Yuuri ducks his head quickly with a pained hiss, and the moment is lost. Victor chuckles a small, sympathetic laugh and ducks his head too in order to catch Yuuri’s eyes. 

“You won’t distract me so easily, my Yuuri.” 

He meant to scold, but his voice comes out soft and warm – overly affectionate. He can’t help it.

Yuuri’s mouth twitches a little as he holds back his returning smile. He’s heard Victor’s tone, too. Of course he has. Over the months, Victor’s gotten better at reading his Yuuri’s expressions. But Yuuri, in turn, has gotten better at reading Victor’s motivations. They’re working on it. They’re in a good place, Victor thinks. 

“Come on,” Victor coaxes, kneeling down in front of Yuuri and helping him out of his skates. It isn’t strictly necessary – it’s a swollen nose, not a sprained ankle or wrist – but Victor does it anyway and Yuuri lets him, his hands resting on Victor’s shoulders as he works. Once the skates are off, he massages Yuuri’s calves for an indulgent moment before he starts packing up Yuuri’s bag. He helps Yuuri do some cool-down stretching before they head out into the early evening of Hasetsu, leaving the Ice Castle behind them. 

He catches Yuuri’s hand and they walk back towards the inn together. It’s a little difficult to do so while also leading his bike with his free hand, since he’d led Yuuri in an early-morning run to Ice Castle that very morning, but it’s worth it to feel the comforting weight of Yuuri’s hand in his. Yuuri smiles to himself and says nothing, threading their fingers together easily as they walk. 

Once they’re outside the door to the inn, Victor pauses and tugs Yuuri back by his hand. Yuuri gives him a questioning look but sways into Victor’s personal space. Victor nudges his bike to rest against the wall before lifting his hand to curl his fingers under Yuuri’s chin, tipping his face up so he can lean in and kiss him properly. He’s exceedingly gentle, mindful not to bump against Yuuri’s nose.

Yuuri makes a soft sound, or at least starts one – it sticks in his throat and then he leans up on the tips of his toes to kiss Victor more firmly, his hands lifting to cup the back of Victor’s neck. They kiss slowly, out there in the open with the sun sinking low on the horizon behind them and it’s – peaceful. Blissful. Everything Victor’s wanted and more. 

When they draw away from the kiss, Victor chases after Yuuri’s mouth, planting a few more soft kisses there before resting his forehead to his. He’d normally move to brush his nose to his, but he withholds the touch, no matter how soft. Just in case. 

Yuuri’s playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. Nothing has ever felt so sinfully lovely in his life before. Well, almost nothing. Victor can think of one or two things Yuuri’s hands have done to him that could be described as sinfully lovely. 

“Yuuri,” Victor says, and has nothing else to say, really, just always loves the way Yuuri’s name sounds on his tongue. 

Yuuri smiles at him, as if he knows this. He probably does. 

“Yeah,” he says softly in response. 

They’re standing there, smiling at each other like idiots, their foreheads smooshed together, and they’re definitely blocking the entrance to Yuuri’s family’s inn, but neither of them care. They sway in the cooling breeze, just enjoying one another’s space. This close, Victor could count Yuuri’s eyelashes or something equally as absurd and wonderful. He never knew that people could have freckles in their eyes until he met Yuuri and could look this deeply into his eyes. He looked it up online after the first time he noticed – and it’s true, people can have freckles in their eyes just like on skin. Yuuri has one little freckle on the left side of his right eye. Victor loves that freckle. Victor loves Yuuri. 

“Come on,” Victor finally says, loathed to step away from Yuuri but his need to fuss winning out. “Let’s get you inside and resting. You’ll need ice for that nose.”

“I’m honestly fine,” Yuuri tells him, but lets Victor tug him inside. They remove their shoes, say hello to Yuuri’s mother, and then head upstairs to get cleaned up for dinner and a soak in the onsen. 

Dinner is a quiet affair, or at least quiet for Victor. He spends it watching Yuuri’s family speak with Yuuri in rapid fire Japanese. Victor’s Japanese has been getting better, but when they speak quickly, it’s difficult to follow. It’s clear from context that his family is asking about Yuuri’s progressively swelling nose. There’s a bruise blossoming under Yuuri’s eye, too, and a nasty looking bruise above one eyebrow. He’ll certainly be sore in the morning. 

It really is quiet in the onsen. Once Yuuri lets himself relax, his exhaustion bleeds out of him. He sinks low into the water, breathing out softly and letting the mineral water relax him. Victor sits beside him, soaking, too, but mostly keeping an eye on Yuuri. 

Yuuri watches the sky above them, or at least what fuzzy remnants of stars he can see without his glasses on. He looks peaceful, though. His shower from earlier has left his hair fluffier, the edges still a little wet and curling along his temples. 

Victor sits there, watching Yuuri, feels himself smiling a little as he takes in the way Yuuri blinks slowly, fighting back his exhaustion, looking up at the sky. He’s thinking about something. Victor can tell because Yuuri’s eyes are sparkling. Victor knows it has nothing to do with the night sky. 

Beneath the water, Yuuri’s hand shifts and takes Victor’s in his. Their fingers thread together. Neither of them say anything for a moment.

Yuuri shifts, tilting his head a little as he turns to look at Victor.

Victor smiles at him, sympathetic. “Does your nose hurt?” 

Yuuri’s brow furrows for a moment and then he shakes his head. “Victor… I’m fine. Really.” 

“Good,” Victor answers but also knows that Yuuri is stubborn and insistent and will say he’s fine even if he’s not if it means they’ll get more practice in. 

Yuuri studies his face for a moment, and then sits up, swaying towards Victor. His hand reaches out, moving slowly through the water. His thumb presses against Victor’s hip and it takes all Victor has not to make an absurd sound at such a simple touch. 

Yuuri’s eyes soften, his lids falling half-closed as he looks at Victor. His hand shifts, fully cupping his hip and he leans into his space. He kisses Victor again – and it isn’t that Yuuri’s not demonstrative, but it’s rare for him to initiate contact while in the springs. They kiss, simple and soft. Yuuri only draws back once Victor’s starting to feel breathless. 

“If you wanted…” Yuuri starts and trails off.

“Hm?” Victor prompts, smiling a little at him. 

“… You could take my mind off it,” Yuuri finishes, and the words are sweet, the tone light and airy, but the meaning is clear – and his eyes are darker once he opens them again to look at Victor. 

“Oh,” Victor hiccups out, and then laughs a little because he sounds absurd, sounds like they haven’t ever done this before – and Yuuri bubbles out a soft laugh, too. He stands, taking Victor’s hand and tugging him up. Victor follows Yuuri willingly, lets Yuuri lead him through the rooms of the springs, towels him dry, and then pulls Victor towards his bedroom. 

Yuuri’s hands are always perfect on Victor’s body. He’s strong, capable, and while he’s never physically suspended Victor in air, he doesn’t doubt Yuuri could do it if he were challenged to do so. As it is, his hands are on Victor now as he leans up and catches Victor’s mouth in a searing kiss. 

They’re under Yuuri’s family’s roof, which means they’re always quiet when they do this – but it’s alright because that usually means Yuuri just kisses Victor a lot so they can swallow one another’s sounds. And he loves that. He loves the feeling of Yuuri’s mouth on his, loves the taste of his moans, the strangled cry Yuuri gives whenever he comes inside Victor. 

Yuuri pushes Victor down onto the bed and crawls up after him, moving to straddle his hips. They trade kisses, unhurried but with that edge of desperation that always colors the way Victor touches Yuuri. He runs his hands down Yuuri’s back, the dips of his back, the curve of his ass. He’s beautiful. He feels soft and warm from the springs, his body pliant and worn from a long day’s training. 

“Yuuri,” Victor sighs between kisses just for the sake of saying his name. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri answers, peels away Victor’s towel and then his own so they’re both naked on Victor’s bed. Victor lays back on the bed and marvels at Yuuri, at the arch of his body, the vee of his hips, the curve of his half-hard cock. He’s breathtaking. Everything about him is always breathtaking. 

Yuuri gives him a small smile. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells Yuuri, because he can’t be expected to hold back that praise when it’s like this, with Yuuri’s powerful thighs straddling over his hips, his hands running over Victor’s chest, tracing along the dips of his muscles, his hair falling into his eyes. He’s devastatingly beautiful even with his wonky, swollen, slightly purple nose. If anything, it serves as an emblem for just how stubborn and preserving his Yuuri can be, and that’s all the more beautiful. 

Yuuri’s smile turns shy, but he doesn’t deny or dismiss it. That’s progress, at least. He remembers a time when even saying that much could be enough for Yuuri to lose the mood and bury his head in a pillow, disbelieving and unwilling to consider just how earnest Victor can be when it comes to praising him. 

Now, Yuuri ducks his head, his cheeks a little pink as he runs his hands over Victor’s chest. Victor lifts his hands, running them up Yuuri’s thighs, cupping his hips. 

“What do you want tonight, Yuuri?” Victor asks. He’ll do whatever he wants – has always been willing to do whatever it is that Yuuri wants. It’s been an eventful day and a quiet evening, and he’s prepared to take it slow, to touch Yuuri until he’s finally exhausted, until they can fall asleep in one another’s arms, to take Yuuri’s mind off the pain of his nose, or the wounded pride from his last jump’s spill. 

Yuuri looks up, and this time there’s a determination in his eye that eclipses the sadness. “Let me ride you.” 

Victor nearly chokes out a small moan, taken aback. It isn’t that Yuuri’s shy. But it isn’t that he’s bold, either. Somehow, Yuuri manages to be both, most of the time. He’s shy up until they’re in these situations and then he takes control, but even then he tends to lead Victor through what he wants with his actions, not his words. 

He holds Victor’s gaze, then drops his hands down to grasp Victor’s hands and guide them back so that he’s cupping his ass. He sits up a little on his knees, spreading his legs a little and letting Victor’s fingers slip down to press against him. 

Yuuri doesn’t even wait for Victor to respond, just leans forward and stretches, reaching for the side-table and pulling out the lube and pressing it into Victor’s hand, letting him warm it up. Like this, Yuuri cages Victor, hands planted on either side of him, hips decidedly pinning down Victor’s hips. Victor’s hands on Yuuri’s ass. 

“… You have to practice tomorrow,” Victor reminds him, somewhat unnecessarily – as if Yuuri would have forgotten that – “You sure you’ll be able to land your jumps?” 

Yuuri snorts. He actually snorts. Victor’s so in love. 

Yuuri sits up a bit, flipping his hair back away from his forehead and, again, he is not one to roll his eyes but if he ever were to be someone who rolled his eyes, this would be the time. Instead, he smiles – and it’s just on the edge of becoming a smirk. And, wow, Victor is always weak to Yuuri’s smirks. They’re rare, but when they appear, they’re too much for him to handle. He feels warm all over. The lube is definitely warming up in his hand. 

Definitely smirking now, his cheeks pink, Yuuri says, “Then I’ll just be thinking of you every time I land my jumps tomorrow. Every single time.” 

Victor’s heart definitely skips a beat. 

His smile is loopy and lopsided and ridiculous but he’s so in love, he can’t help it. He laughs out, which quickly hitches into a tiny grasp as Yuuri begins to grind his hips down, his cock brushing up against Victor’s. 

“Yuuri,” he gasps, breathless. “Wow—”

“Well?” Yuuri prompts, rolling his hips. He shifts up and then forward, so Victor’s cock slides into the cleft of his ass. It’s all friction right now, Victor hasn’t gotten the lube on his fingers yet, but it’s enough to make Victor groan. 

“I… admire you challenging yourself,” Victor settles on. He has no doubt that come tomorrow, Yuuri will land every single one of his jumps, just to spite Victor for even daring to question him. One of these days, Victor will learn to stop questioning what Yuuri does or decides.

Yuuri’s red-faced now, but there’s a fire in his eyes when he whispers, voice sweet and promising, “I think the challenge is really for you, Victor.” He leans down closer, presses his mouth against Victor’s ear and whispers, “Make sure I feel you all day.” 

And it’s really unfair. Victor’s cock twitches against Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri smiles – knows he’s won. 

“Wow,” Victor gasps out again, laughing breathlessly. “No fair, Yuuri.”

Yuuri laughs, too, hitching and beautiful and somehow nervous and confident at once. He takes the lube from Victor, pops the cap, and pours a liberal amount onto Victor’s fingertips, spreads them for him in a slow, sensual way – purposefully squeezing his fingers around his fingers like he would around Victor’s cock. 

Yuuri lets out a small sigh when Victor slides his fingers against him. He circles Yuuri carefully, willing to tease, willing to take his time. Yuuri grunts a little and reaches back, grasping Victor around the wrist and tugging, inching himself back so that he sinks down onto Victor’s finger. That breach is enough to make Yuuri tense up for a moment before, stubborn and beautiful as he is, he forces himself to relax. His thighs shake a little as Victor presses into him, presses and pulls in shallow strokes. 

He looks up at Yuuri, watches the way his face ripples between his expressions. The pinch of his brow, the parting of his soft mouth before his lips turn upwards into a small smile. The squint of his eyes first, then when they fall close. Then, a moment later, as Victor squeezes in a second finger, he opens his eyes to meet Victor’s. 

“Victor,” Yuuri whispers, and it’s a whine – one Victor doesn’t hear often. Usually with their training schedule, he doesn’t have a chance to work Yuuri open like this. And this particular whine only gasps from Yuuri’s mouth when it’s like this, Yuuri arching over him, Victor’s fingers inside his ass. 

Victor presses his fingers in carefully, hooks his fingertips just to elicit Yuuri’s gasps and moans, feels triumphant at evoking such sounds. Victor enjoys his moans, the way his back arches, the way his fingers grip first at Victor’s shoulders, then the bedsheets, then his hair. 

Yuuri bites down on his lip, keeping quiet. The house is old around them, creaks in the night even when no one is walking on the floorboards. (He’s sure once Mari told him the house was haunted, but Victor might have mistranslated.) He wants Yuuri to be loud, fantasizes about a day when he can spread Yuuri out like this in a hotel room, or better yet in his old flat in St. Petersburg. Anywhere where Yuuri doesn’t have to hold back, where they can pull each other apart piece by piece for hours on end.

“Mmm,” Yuuri gasps out, riding down on Victor’s fingertips. “Good. More, please. Victor, pl—”

Victor lurches upwards to catch Yuuri’s mouth in a sloppy kiss, whispering his name as he drags his teeth over his mouth. “Yuuri,” he whispers. “Yuuri, Yuuri…” 

All that matters is that Yuuri is enjoying himself, that he’s comfortable, that he’s relaxed around Victor’s fingers. Three fingers inside him now, he curls inside him and Yuuri cries out into the kiss. His thighs twitch, his body shudders. There’s that feeling of anticipation between them. He knows that if he doesn’t pick up the pace, Yuuri will grow impatient. Once, Yuuri squeezes his fingers in alongside Victor’s own, came like that pressed up against Victor. Came a second time once Victor was inside him. That stamina—

Yuuri bites his lip, mumbles Victor’s name as he kisses him. He grabs Victor’s wrist again, this time tugging away. Victor moves slow, despite Yuuri’s insistence, dragging his fingers slowly out from inside Yuuri.

Yuuri shifts, breaks the kiss to duck his head and grab at the discarded lube again. He pours a fair amount onto his fingertips and then grasps Victor’s cock, lubing him up and stroking slow. Victor shudders, because of course he does – how could he not, with Yuuri hovering over him like this, pliant and open and wanting him like he does? 

Yuuri drags his thumb along the crown of Victor’s cock, a move he’s learned after many hours studying Victor’s reactions to his handjobs. Bless him and his attention to detail, to his intense study of Victor’s expressions. Victor jerks up happily into Yuuri’s hand. 

“Ready for me?” Victor asks, hushed.

Yuuri smirks again and shifts up, lifting his weight onto his knees and positioning Victor’s cock beneath him, fingers wrapped around the base to hold him steady. 

“Always,” he says, and it’s confident and hot and Victor is a weak man to all things Yuuri, but especially this. There’s sweat at his brow again, and he smells like sex and the onsen and it’s the most addicting smell in the world, the most addicting sight. Yuuri, in general, is just addictive to Victor. 

The moment Yuuri slides down onto Victor’s cock, Victor can’t help but close his eyes. He hates that, though, wishes he could have seen the expression Yuuri made when he felt Victor press inside of him. Victor runs his hands over Yuuri’s hips and shivering thighs as he adjusts to Victor’s girth. 

Yuuri ducks his head, forgets to be quiet, and moans out loud and slow. 

“Ahh…” Victor sighs out, wriggling his hips a little to get Yuuri to gasp out. “You always like this part, Yuuri.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri answers, breathless, and his hips pull back and everything slides easily inside him – and then he rocks back down to pull Victor back inside him again. He reaches out, bracing one hand on Victor’s chest to keep moving and says, with feeling, “I love it.” 

All Victor knows is that he loves it, too, loves the way Yuuri looks over him, loves the tension and slide of his stomach and abs, how perfect he looks as he rides Victor, his pace quickening faster than Victor might advocate for considering their training schedule tomorrow. Yuuri’s face is red, up to his ears, and he’s in control here – pinning Victor down as he pushes and pulls himself against him at a maddening pace. 

They both go quiet, the room full only of the sounds of their gasping breaths, the sound of skin slapping against skin. Victor feels everything – Yuuri’s hands on him, the flex of his thighs against his hips, the clench of his body around Victor’s cock. It’s good, it’s so good – it’s always so good with Yuuri. And Yuuri is so beautiful, so lovely above him – taking control, taking what he wants. He could watch Yuuri ride him for hours, for days, for as long as it took for the bed to collapse beneath them and fall through this old floor and crash down on the floor below them. He laughs a little to think that Yuuri would probably keep riding him, stubborn man that he is.

Yuuri tilts his head, smiling at him curiously at the laugh. Victor doesn’t have the words, doesn’t have the language yet to express just how much he adores everything about Yuuri – every inch, every thought, every little thing. But he also knows that Yuuri must know, has to know – Victor’s never been subtle, and he knows how much Yuuri loves him, too. 

“You’re so good. Good, you’re so good, Yuuri,” Victor says, feeling on the edge all over, that sharpness just a flood of pleasure in the pit of his stomach.

And Yuuri preens, tilts his head back a bit so Victor can appreciate the column of his neck, the flush of his chest, the flex of his muscles, the ripple of his stomach as he rides himself down hard on Victor’s cock. He swivels his hips, elicits a sharp gasp from Victor’s throat. Yuuri smirks, triumphant, his hair sticking to his face, his body shuddering as he moves against Victor. 

He could keep going. Victor knows that. Victor is keenly aware of how much Yuuri can outlast him. How much he delights in getting Victor to come over and over again until he’s well and truly exhausted. 

Victor reaches out, curling his hand around Yuuri’s cock and stroking in time to Yuuri’s thrusts. He lets Yuuri set the pace, lets Yuuri roll his hips down against Victor’s cock and then rock his hips up into Victor’s hand. Beautiful, glorious, stubborn Yuuri. He has the control. Victor lets him take it, lets him take what he wants. 

Yuuri shifts, wriggles his hips, experiments with speed and pace and angle until he hits what he wants to hit, shuddering at the first brush of Victor’s cockhead against his prostate. His gasp is loud, and again Victor thinks he must forget where they are, their unspoken rule of silence. Yuuri is loud, demonstrative now as he rocks his hips down so Victor hits his prostate again and again. 

Yuuri’s entire body shakes and he pushes faster onto Victor’s cock, his seemingly inhuman strength driving him to move even though he’s doing most of the heavy lifting here. With each thrust of Yuuri’s hips, Victor pulls his hand against Yuuri’s cock. 

Yuuri is slowly coming apart. He can see it in the shudder of his entire body. But of course Yuuri would ride him like this. He always rides him like this, like it’s exercise and training in itself, like it’s a sprint up the tallest hill in Hasetsu, like he’s landing quad after quad and wants to keep going. Yuuri never does anything halfway. He always goes all in, and Victor loves that about him, loves watching Yuuri come apart, loves Yuuri taking what he wants from Victor without shame, without doubt. Victor could watch Yuuri for the rest of his life – the way he moves, the way he sounds, the way he creates music, just like this. He hopes he never has to look away from Yuuri.

He twists his hand around Yuuri’s cock, but he’s a weak man and the sight of Yuuri above him, the way he feels, how it feels to be inside him – it doesn’t take long before Victor is coming inside of Yuuri. He can’t even remember to give a warning, although he knows from experience that Yuuri loves to be full of him. Victor comes, throwing his head back and gasping, moaning out Yuuri’s name. And Yuuri’s above him, body strong and flushed and shaking, his arms straining as he balances himself against Victor’s body, rocks down hard against his cock. 

Yuuri keeps riding, but slows his movements, knows how oversensitive Victor can be right after he comes. His body’s shaking apart and he opens his eyes to look at Victor. Victor licks his lips, gasps out senseless sounds, unable to form words just yet. 

He tugs on Yuuri’s cock, desperately. And Yuuri shivers, rocking forward into his hand until he comes all over Victor’s hand. 

They stay like that for a moment, suspended in this moment, the bliss of their aftermath. And then Yuuri slowly lifts himself off Victor’s cock and Victor misses his warmth immediately. They’re both breathless and woozy as Yuuri slumps down onto the bed beside Victor and weakly cuddles up to him, letting his breath hit his face as he leans in and kisses him sweetly. 

“Wow,” Victor says, because he can’t find the words to say how amazing Yuuri is, not this close after his orgasm, and Yuuri giggles against his mouth. Victor understands. Victor sounds drunk even to his own ears. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees, smiling. His eyes are soft, something vulnerable and open in his gaze. He lifts his hand, touching Victor’s cheek. 

“How’s your nose?” Victor finally manages after a breathless moment in which they just smile dopily at each other. 

“It’s _fine_ ,” Yuuri whispers, his hand pushing back to lace through Victor’s hair, petting him absently. It’s luxurious and perfect and Yuuri is amazing for remembering how much Victor loves to have his hair played with. 

“My Yuuri,” Victor whispers, just because he can. 

Yuuri’s smile lights up his eyes. This close, Victor can see that one freckle again. 

“Victor,” Yuuri answers, and his voice is sleepy and slurred, and it means that he elongates the ‘r’ in his name in that way that Victor absolutely adores. No one says his name the way Yuuri does. 

He tips his head forward and catches Yuuri’s mouth in a sweet kiss. He knows they should clean up but he’s loathed to move and Yuuri doesn’t seem too keen on moving right away, either. They rest like that, swapping lazy kisses and pressing their foreheads together. 

“So,” Victor finally manages. “Going to feel me tomorrow?”

Yuuri chuckles, just a touch of embarrassment to it. He hums out, thoughtfully. He wriggles closer until Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri and pillows him up against his chest.

“Yeah,” Yuuri decides. He’s quiet for a moment and then says, quieter, “You don’t have to worry about me so much, you know.”

“I know,” Victor says and does not elaborate. They both know why Victor worries for Yuuri. It’s the same reason Yuuri worries for Victor, in their quieter moments.

“But…” Yuuri continues, after a moment. He sighs out. “Thank you, for doing so.” 

Victor’s smile warms. His Yuuri is always so strangely formal in the strangest moments. He kisses him again, to banish any lingering doubts. Yuuri sighs sweetly into the kiss. 

They part, looking at one another. 

In perfect seriousness, Yuuri says, “I’m going to land all my jumps tomorrow. Just you watch.”

Victor beams, feels warm from the inside out. Just watch, Yuuri says, as if Victor could ever look away from him. Instead he says, “I have no doubt of that, Yuuri.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [my tumblr.](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com/)


End file.
